Phantom's Sketchbook
by AkoyaMizuno
Summary: Mr. Lancer finds himself in an unparalleled situation, he has access to something which can give him incredable insight into the personal workings of Amity Park's local ghost teen hero, Danny Phantom. COMPLETE!
1. Fenton, Phantom, and Findings

**A/N:** This is the first thing I've written in a long time. So long, in fact, that I couldn't remember how to access my old ffn account and decided it was just as well to made a new one since I'm less than proud of much of my old writing. There are some things in here that are part of an idea I have for another fic, so they aren't really explained, but I put them in anyway because I wanted them there. Also, I had intended to put the whole story up as a one-shot, but it's longer and more complicated than I was expecting, so I'm doing it by chapters instead. Anyway, I'm rambling, so enjoy!

* * *

Chapter One: Fenton, Phantom, and Findings

"Remember people, your creative writing assignment is due tomorrow. And since you've known about it for two weeks I expect everyone to have it done." Mr. Lancer said the last with a special glare for Daniel Fenton as the troublesome boy filed past him on the way out of the classroom. _Speaking of Danny..._

"Mr. Fenton, could you stay behind a moment?" The only response the overworked teacher received was a sigh from the boy as he waved off his two friends. Though he couldn't see it, Mr. Lancer was sure that the wave had been accompanied by a roll of the eyes.

Taking advantage of the time it would take for everyone to pack up and leave, Lancer sized up the seventeen year old. The boy looked tired, though truth be told the teacher had to strain to remember a day in the last three years when Danny hadn't looked like he'd been up all night. Those three years had made some differences - even if the laziness and perpetual tardiness remained the same. Danny wore his black hair slightly longer than he used to and had gained some small bit of muscle, his white with red-trim tee and jeans outfit had been forsaken for sand coloured khakis, a black tee-shirt and a long sleeved, collared black shirt. _The black is probably Ms. Manson's fault._

The strangest part of his apparel was a short chain with large silver links which had a small star attached. In the middle of the star was what looked like a stylized CW, though that made no sense whatsoever. The chain had been the cause of some commotion amongst the student body a while back when Dash Baxter had attempted to steal it only to find that apparently no one but Danny Fenton and his friends could even touch it. Current popular thought was that it was some strange ghost related item made by Jack and Maddie Fenton; Mr. Lancer found that particular explanation lacking.

Turning his thoughts back to the teenager in front of him, it occurred to Lancer that there was more than just cosmetic changes. In some inexplicable way, Danny looked old. His blue eyes still held mischief, and there was a self confidence that had been previously lacking, but there was something else there that bugged the hell out of his English teacher.

"Uh... Mr. Lancer? You okay?"

Snapping out of his musings, Lancer realized that the classroom was clear and that he had been staring for quite some time.

"Yes, Mr. Fenton, thank you, just thinking about something I have to do tonight."

Danny raised an eyebrow but seemed to accept the lie easily enough.

Clearing his throat Lancer launched into the actual reason he had asked Danny to stay behind. "I am not one to discourage creativity in my students, which is why I did not take your sketchbook from you during class. However, doodling when you need to be paying attention is a sure fire way to bring your grades down. And though you've been maintaining a B average this year, that average is far from a steady one. So I suggest that you refrain from indulging your hobby during lectures."

Instead of the brush off he'd been expecting Mr. Lancer was surprised to see Danny give him a considering look followed by a sheepish grin. "Yeah, you're probably right there. Sorry, Mr. Lancer."

The response earned a rare smile, "Go join your friends, Mr. Fenton. I'm sure they're waiting for you."

Danny was part way out the door when Lancer called out to him, "Oh, and Mr. Fenton?"

"I expect good things from your assignment tomorrow."

* * *

One of the great things about Amity Park is that it is extremely safe.

Well, if you discounted the ghosts.

And Jack Fenton's driving.

It was this sense of security combined with extreme insomnia that had Mr. Lancer walking around the park at two in the morning. _Ender's Game! I'm going to be as tired as Mr. Fenton tomorrow._ In truth, it was Danny Fenton who was keeping him awake. Something just wasn't right there, and whatever it was had been off for a long time.

There was no reason a physical or mental illness would not have been reported to the school by his family. And Danny's family may not have been entirely normal, but trouble at home was laughable. Problems with friends was an impossibility given that Danny Fenton was inseparable from Sam Manson and Tucker Foley, and had a somewhat close friend in Valerie Grey. Girl issues was an equally unlikely culprit given the obvious persistence of whatever was wrong, despite the fact that Fenton and Manson were visibly having issues admitting their feelings towards one another. Bullying ... well, bullying was decidedly a problem for him, but it was one that was improving, while to Lancer's mind Danny was getting worse.

Whatever it was, Lancer apparently wasn't going to figure it out tonight.

Turning to head back home, an unearthly white light in the trees caught his attention. Lancer debated for a moment - investigating strange occurrences in Amity Park was a terminally stupid idea - but he was not in the mood to put up with more mysteries. _If it's a ghost, I'll just leave._

What he found surprised him. It was, of course, a ghost, though given which ghost it was Mr. Lancer decided that leaving was not necessary.

Besides, how often did one get a chance to watch the illustrious Danny Phantom without his knowledge, _and_ while he was relaxing?

Based on his appearance the ghost-boy had been in a fight quite recently. His hair was messy, even for him, while his pale skin looked like it was going to bruise in several places and there was a gash along his right side which looked painful. _I didn't realize a ghost could get hurt like that._

However, the local savior seemed entirely unconcerned with his injuries, as his leaned contentedly against the base of a rather large tree. A globe of white light hovered just above his right shoulder, apparently the source of the light Lancer had noticed earlier. Phantom's concentration was on the black-bound book and pencil in his hands, much to Mr. Lancer's curiosity.

_Wait . . . Is he drawing?_

It made sense, in a weird kind of way. Everyone needed a hobby, everyone needed something to get them away from their everyday life. And given the 'life' Danny Phantom led, he probably needed it more than most. What was giving Lancer the creeps was the absolute normality of it.

If you could get past the white hair, the glowing green eyes, the black with white hazmat, the weird glowing orb, the fact that he battled ghosts on a daily basis, and the fact that he himself was a ghost, then Phantom looked shockingly like a seventeen year old engrossed in a favorite pastime. In fact, Lancer was strongly reminded of how Danny Fenton had appeared while sketching in his class earlier.

But something about that wasn't right, Phantom should not look like a seventeen year old. He should, in theory, look like a fourteen year old. At least, the teacher was pretty sure that ghosts were not supposed to age. _Well, you learn new things every day._

For the second time the book obsessed adult found himself examining a teenager. Right at the moment, the ghost appeared harmless, if not almost totally worn out. Lancer knew from experience that Phantom was not as harmless as he seemed. After three years of close calls, the teacher was firmly in the camp that declared the ghost a hero, but that did not discount the fact that Danny Phantom was powerful. If anything ever happened to turn the ghost from his path as a hero . . . _That doesn't bare thinking._

Why _did _Phantom work so hard to protect Amity Park from other ghosts? It wasn't like the locals gave him a reason to do so, in fact there were many of them who would have gladly gotten rid of the ghost given the chance. The human ghost hunters would fight on side with him, only to turn back to chasing the ghost once the immediate threat was over. But Phantom never fought back, not enough to convince Lancer that he actually trying to hurt the people who were attempting to destroy him.

There were so many questions running through Mr. Lancer's head that he was considering just revealing himself and asking the ghost for answers, when a strange blue vapor escaped from Phantom's mouth. Stiffening the ghost dropped the sketchbook and pencil, grabbing a metal thermos which Lancer had failed to notice.

To Mr. Lancer's mind the attack came out of nowhere, though Phantom was apparently prepared since his head was no longer where the blast hit.

"That the best you can do, Skulker?" The ghost-teen's words came out as cocky and bored, belying the wary posture and serious expression Phantom had now taken on.

"Of course not, ghost-child. There would be no joy in the hunt if my prey was not given a chance to defend itself in vain."

Lancer recognized the newcomer as one of the ghosts who regularly attacked Amity Park. _Now is probably a good time to leave._

He didn't get the chance. The fight started with a roar and a blast of green ectoplasm from Phantom, causing Skulker to phase through several trees before the two began a ghost version of an aerial dog fight.

Mr. Lancer stood shock still for several moments after the combat had drifted far enough away that he could no longer see or hear them. It took another ten minutes before he became convinced that the two ghosts were not coming back any time soon and that it was both prudent and safe to return home.

He started to do just that when it registered that the orb of white light was still floating in the same spot it had been in when Phantom had been sketching. The lethal sense of curiosity that had brought him over in the first place now caused the normally sensible teacher to drift over to examine the glowing ball.

It was, to all appearances, a tightly packed ball of light about the same colour as Phantom's hair. Though how it could be light and seem solid, or how it was being maintained, or, for that matter, how it was floating was well beyond even Mr. Lancer's surprisingly considerable scientific knowledge. _Some ghost thing, most likely_.

Ignoring the advice his own mind was screaming out at him, Lancer reached out to touch it, only to jump back in surprise when the orb simply ceased to exist. Left temporarily blinded, and muttering some choice words he had picked up from the kids at school, he attempted to take a few steps in the darkness, tripping over something instead.

"Lord of the Rings!" The exclamation sounded loud in his ears. With a sigh Lancer settled himself into a sitting position while waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

As soon as his vision returned Mr. Lancer found the reason he had tripped.

Phantom had forgotten his sketchbook.


	2. Assignments and Tourism

**A/N:** Oh, wow. I have to tell you guys that I've been altogether overwhelmed by the response to this story. I wasn't expecting such a positive reaction. Thank you very, very much to everyone who read the first chapter, especially those of you who reviewed. I'd completely forgotten just how giddy reviews can make you. Particular thanks to Shimegami-chan, who I've been throwing my thoughts off of, and who is letting me borrow something for a later point in this story (not this chapter).

To those of you who are wondering what the orb of light was . . . well, remember how I mentioned that there were things in the story that were part of another fan fic idea? Well, the orb is one of them, along with the chain Danny wears (which, incidently, is invisible when he's in ghost form). So for the purposes of this story the orb of light is just a plot device, something to get Lancer where he needed to be.

Sadly I think the first part of this chapter is stronger than the second part. But then, the second part also went places I hadn't been expecting it to. Plot-wise I had intended to take this chapter a little farther, and then I realized that I'd hit a line that would make for an excellent end and that I'd already hit my intended length mark, so I stopped. Hopefully that'll work out okay for everyone.

That's enough from me. Once again, huge thanks to the reviewers, and I hope you enjoy chapter two just as much as you appeared to enjoy chapter one.

* * *

Chapter Two: Assignments and Tourism

_Why did I take it?_

To his credit, Mr. Lancer had waited a whole hour in the hopes that Phantom would come back. Once that hour was up, however, he had gone home out of it, taking the sketchbook with him, reasoning that it was better that he had it than risk someone less ... reputable ... finding it. After all, it wasn't like he never _saw _Danny Phantom. He could, in theory, try to grab the ghost's attention after one of the many attacks Casper High regularly experienced.

Though he hadn't managed to gain any sleep that night, the teacher was quite proud of himself for managing to ignore the temptation of having the personal sketchbook of the local hero. He hadn't opened it.

Yet.

Given his lack of sleep and the fact that his mind kept wandering back to the black book in his briefcase, it was not surprising that Mr. Lancer was acting strangely. In fact, the only detention he had given out that day was to Dash Baxter for slamming Danny Fenton into lockers. Both students and faculty had inquired as to whether he was well after that.

A prime example of their concern was the look Fenton was currently giving him.

It was last period English and for once Mr. Lancer was in complete agreement with the students wish for the day to be over. After all, it was Friday and that meant the weekend was nearly upon them.

_Weekend. Alone. With Phantom's sketchbook._ Suddenly Lancer was less eager for the day to be over.

Unfortunately for the stressed educator it was definitely one of _those _days, as the bell choose that moment to ring. Mr. Lancer sighed, then remembered that he had an assignment due.

"Don't forget to put your creative writing assignments on my desk, people! I won't be accepting them later. No excuses."

Not bothering to see if his students listened or not, Lancer grabbed the chalkboard eraser to begin the process of clearing the day's lesson off the board. _How in the world am I going to keep myself distracted from that sketchbook?_ It was wrong to invade the privacy of _anyone _in that manner, even that of a ghost. No matter how much he wanted to.

Throughout his train of thought Lancer had been vaguely aware of the students hurrying past him to get to their weekend freedom, so turning around to find one of them still standing there with a sheet of paper in his hands caused the teacher to jump.

"The Importance of Being Earnest! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."

Daniel Fenton had the grace to look apologetic, "Sorry, Mr. Lancer."

"Never mind, Mr. Fenton. Can I help you with something?"

"Are you okay? Not that I object or anything, but you didn't give me a detention even though I was late for class, which is really weird . . ." Danny trailed off helplessly.

Mr. Lancer gave his student a considering look, a little touched by his obvious concern and slightly amused by his commentary.

"I'm fine, Mr. Fenton. I just didn't get much sleep last night, as I'm sure you can understand. As for not giving you a detention . . . everyone deserves a break once in a while, even habitual troublemakers such as yourself."

The truth of the matter was that when Danny had walked into class five minutes late Lancer had every intention of punishing him. But when he'd gotten a good look at the boy he'd changed his mind. Danny looked like shit, obviously he hadn't slept at all the night before, but just as obviously there was something bothering him.

"Was there anything else?"

Danny shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. "Um, actually... yes. I wanted to apologize."

Mr. Lancer blinked, "What for?"

"For this," Danny muttered handing over the paper in his hand. Lancer glanced at it, the page contained a hand written poem that was most likely the teen's creative writing assignment.

Danny hurried on with his explanation before his teacher managed to say anything.

"I know you prefer these things to be typed but my computer got blown up in a lab accident last night, so I couldn't type it up. To be honest, it's not even what I wanted to hand in, but the assignment I did originally was on the computer that was destroyed and I lost the only hard copy I had along with my sketchbook. So I wrote this last night, but I know it's really bad and I wanted to say I'm sorry for disappointing you. Again."

Lancer stared at the agitated Fenton for a moment before the short speech filtered through.

"You lost your sketchbook?"

Danny had an upset but surprised expression, like he hadn't expected that to be the part that Lancer zeroed in on, "Yeah. I lost it in the park last night and it had my assignment in it."

The teacher was upset enough on the behalf of his student that he didn't even register the coincidence. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fenton, I know how much your drawing means to you. As for the rest of it, I'm sure the poem is fine and if you find your original assignment feel free to pass it in and I'll mark that instead."

"Really?" The blue-eyed teen had gone from surprise to shock. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

Lancer laughed out loud at that one, "Yes, I'm sure. And yes, really. Good luck finding your sketchbook."

Danny blurted out his thanks before heading out the door.

* * *

Historically speaking, Amity Park had always had more than its fair share of paranormal activity. It was what had brought the Fenton family there in the first place. However, about a year and half after the ghost attacks became a serious issue, the city council realized that something had to be done. The property damage had been escalating beyond the point where the city could afford to fix it all.

So the Amity Ghost Tourism Group (AGTG, if you were a skeptic before, you won't be when you leave!) was born.

The logic was simple enough, Amity Park needed money to fix the problems caused by ghosts, so why not capitalize on ghosts to deal with it? AGTG was run by the city and profits made from ghost related tourism went first and foremost to dealing with all ghost related damage.

What they hadn't been expecting was just how much money there was to be made.

The mass public apparently found the whole idea quite appealing, even laughing off the wavier they were required to sign upon entering Amity Park as part of the 'ambiance.'

Sections of Amity Park now held the feeling of a ghost related theme park thanks to the activities of the AGTG, and the tourists ate it all up. Most never knew that one out of four 'ghost attacks' were for real and that their oddly dressed guides were actually carrying ghost hunting equipment made by Jack and Maddie Fenton.

It was Saturday, Mr. Lancer was currently occupying his time by taking a look at AGTG's most recent project, the Museum of Amity Spooks (Come see our Danny Phantom exhibit!). For Lancer it was an effort to kill two birds with one stone. One, he was doing something to distract himself from the sketchbook which currently lay on his kitchen table, and two, he was researching Danny Phantom in the hopes of finding something that might help him locate the spook.

While he was having some luck with the former, the latter was turning out to be an exercise in futility.

The Danny Phantom exhibit had provided no useful information, mostly consisting of pictures, a life size doll, accounts of each time the ghost had been spotted and an overview of the on-going debate on whether or not Phantom was a hero. About the only thing Lancer had learned was that Phantom was very rarely seen without another ghost being involved, which, if he'd taken the time to think about it, he should have known in the first place. And while the rest of the museum was interesting it was less than informative for Mr. Lancer's purposes.

_I wonder if Jack and Maddie Fenton could help?_

The thought was dismissed almost as soon as it was formed, the couple were ghost hunters and certainly would not be willing to track down Phantom in order to return his property to him.

In true tourist-trap fashion you could not exit the museum without going through the gift shop first, which was why Mr. Lancer now found himself staggered by a sea of merchandise.

Phantom paraphernalia was _everywhere_. Lancer was horrified to see that almost one full wall of the monumentally sized shop looked like the inside of certain female student's locker. Luckily, at some point, someone with an ounce of sanity had stepped in, so there was also a considerable number of books on ghosts and Amity Park itself, as well as plenty of the kinds of items tourists loved to buy and then throw away when they got home.

"Kind of scary, isn't it?" Daniel Fenton's voice drifted over from the teacher's right, "I actually think the gift shop has more stuff than the museum itself."

"If you keep popping up out of nowhere I'm going to start to think you're a ghost," Lancer joked.

Emotion flickered across Danny's face, but before the teacher could identify it the teen was laughing shakily while he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. So what brings you here? I always thought the only interest you had in ghosts was in how they affected your teaching schedule."

"Very funny, Mr. Fenton." Inspiration hit before Lancer had time to wonder at the boldness Danny showed outside of the classroom, "I was here to see if the Museum would be a good place to go on a class trip."

_Actually, that might not be a bad idea. Bring the students here then get them to do a write up on one of the local ghosts. It might actually catch their interest for once._

"What about yourself? I can't image that you're here for educational purposes."

"Waiting for Sam," Danny gestured in the direction of his friend. The self titled ultra recyclo vegetarian was currently standing behind the checkout counter in a purple and black jumpsuit with a name tag that said 'Hi, I'm Sam!' under a smiley face. She looked extremely irritated.

"I wasn't aware Ms. Manson had a job."

Danny shrugged slightly, "It's money that's not coming from her parents. At least Mom specialized her jumpsuit for her. The manager wanted her to wear an extra pink one that they had."

Lancer mentally agreed that a scenario in which Samantha Manson was forced to wear pink probably wouldn't be pretty.

The two wandered through the massive gift shop, chatting aimlessly. Mr. Lancer began to wonder once again why this animated teen had so many problems. He was obviously intelligent, and if he was relaxed the boy was good company. Danny, however, rarely seemed to be relaxed.

_Take right now for instance,_ Mr. Lancer had no idea what had caused the change but Danny had stopped walking, shivering slightly. Since Danny was looking at the wall Lancer couldn't see his face, but the adult was willing to bet that Danny's eyes held the haunted look he'd seen before.

"I have to go," Danny mumbled suddenly. "It was nice talking to you, Mr. Lancer, but I just remembered that I promised Sam that I'd bring something over for her. Bye."

With that the high school student bounded out the door.

_Well, that was strange. I knew he disappeared randomly during school, I didn't know he did it during the rest of his life too._

School was understandable, what teenager didn't want to get out of class? Danny skipped more than was normal, but that could be written off.

_I suppose it's possible that he really forgot to bring something for Ms. Manson._

But Mr. Lancer doubted it.


	3. Coffee and Kat

**A/N:** I'm sorry this chapter took so long, this week has been crazy with partying, graduation and job seeking, plus I'm a fairly slow writer in the first place.

I'm not a fan of original characters in general since they're hard to do well, but I needed someone for Lancer to talk to and the only appropriate person from Danny Phantom was Jazz, and that had limitations I couldn't afford. Kat, fortunately, is able to play a useful part in that other story that's running around in the back of my skull, which I intend to start writing once _Phantom's Sketchbook _is finished. I'm thinking right now that it's going to be called One Month, but that may change.

Anyway, that's neither here nor there right now. This chapter reads a little differently than the previous two, hope that's okay. It's also a bit on the short side, so my apologies, though I think it managed to accomplish what I wanted it to regardless.

To my readers, and particularly my reviewers, thank you so much. I cannot begin to tell you how much it means to me to have such a huge response to this story. To Shimegami-chan, thanks for the support and for 'William.' Everyone should go read her fic _Estrelas_, it's at 22 chapters and counting but is more than worth your time.

For anyone who is wondering, I got the last name Reilly from Spiderman's clone Ben Reilly, who is also known as the Scarlet Spider, I was going to go with something else, but I didn't like it as much.

On with the story!

* * *

Chapter Three: Coffee and Kat

Mr. Lancer was a man who loved books of all kinds and all genres. Non-fiction, fiction, romance, mystery, history, science, fantasy, poetry anthologies, plays, children's books, everything. If it was the written word Lancer had a love for it.

Which is part of the reason why one of his favorite places to go in Amity Park was a small bookstore/coffee shop. _Alliteration _was a recent addition to the city, having opened in September, though you would never know it from the way it and its owner fit into the community. The store motto was "Read, Relax, and Renew," which, outside of pleasing the English buff inside of him, Lancer considered singularly appropriate.

Having already ordered a cup of coffee, Mr. Lancer made his way to the two person table in front of the large bay-window. To his mind it was the best place to sit if you were looking to relax or clear your thoughts.

Laying the bag in his hand on the table, the teacher settled into one of the chairs and stared out the window.

"Hey, do you actually want this coffee, or can I keep it?"

Twisting his head to look at the new arrival, Mr. Lancer couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, "I prefer to have it, if you don't mind."

The women, who was holding two cups anyway, obliged by placing one of the stemming cups of coffee on the table in front of him, and then took the other seat with her own.

Lancer raised an eyebrow at her, "Shouldn't you be working?"

Her green eyes sparkled mischievously, "Probably. But I figure that since I own this place, and am paying people to serve customers, I can pretty much do what I like."

Katherine, who preference was to be called Kat, was the other reason _Alliteration _was one of Mr. Lancer's favorite places in the city. About the same age as he was, Kat was a short women with dark brown hair, vivid green eyes and a fondness for dogs. She and Lancer had become good friends shortly after she had moved to Amity Park.

The two sat in companionable silence for a few moments before Kat broke it.

"Okay, what's on your mind Lancer?"

"What makes you think that there's something on my mind?" Lancer shifted slightly under her scrutinizing gaze.

"Let's see, you're sitting here, not drinking your coffee, at a table you only use when you want to work something out in your head. Should I continue?"

"I think that covers it." The teacher idly stirred his coffee while gathering his thoughts. "Do you know Danny Fenton?"

"I know him," Kat's face had gone blank. "He likes to sit at this very table and draw, has talent, by the way. The boy is head over heals for that Goth friend of his and wouldn't know how to tell her if his life depended on it. Good kid, he's helped me out a few times."

"Yes, well, he's a troublemaker at school. He's always late, or skips class entirely. His grades aren't what they should be, probably because he's forever falling asleep in the classes he does go to, or running out during the middle of them. He's been the cause of some considerable damage to school property over the last three years. . ."

Kat waited for the frustrated educator to run out of steam, "But?"

Lancer sighed, "But I feel like I'm missing something. For a long time I put it down to Danny just being problematic and doled out detentions appropriately. Lately though . . . I just ran into him, and you're completely right, Danny _is_ a good kid and none of this makes any sense. I admit that I get caught up in petty school politics sometimes, so I don't always see what's in front of me, but I like to think that I actually care about my students. Yet it took me _three years_ to even realize something was wrong, and for the world of me I can't figure out what it is or what I can do to help."

Kat leaned back in her chair and seemed to consider this for a moment. "Well, I wouldn't worry too much about not making the connection. For someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, Danny doesn't let very many people get close, and it's not like he trying to advertise whatever it is."

"Are you sure about that? Making trouble is an age old method of getting attention." Lancer took in the expression on Kat's face, "Okay, so maybe not. But that still leaves the fact that something is going on with him, and has been going on for a long time."

"You know," Kat began hesitantly, "the first time I met Danny a bookshelf nearly fell on me. Don't laugh. It's true and was scary at the time since I'm taking about one of those huge units against the wall. Anyway, the stupid thing must have been less secure than I thought, because it came crashing down, and I, being an idiot, completely froze."

"What happened?"

"Danny pushed me out of the way. Unfortunately he didn't get fully out of the way himself and his leg ended up under the bookshelf. He claims it didn't hurt that much, but for a moment I thought his leg was broken. Anyway, the point is that he didn't hesitate to put himself in danger to save a complete stranger. His heart is in the right place. That counts for a lot, especially combined with the fact that he's got two of the best friends I've ever seen and a family that loves him. Plus he's got something else."

"And that would be . . ."

"People like us. People who aren't entirely in on his life, but who care about him and are cheering him on from the sidelines."

For the next few minutes both adults drank their coffee while Mr. Lancer took in the conversation. _She's got a point. Maybe all I need to do is let Danny know that I'm there for him._

Lancer shook his head in bemusement, "Thanks, Katherine."

"You're welcome. . . you know, you're the only person in the world who can get away with calling me by my full name."

The laughter of the two friends rang throughout the store.

"So, now that the serious mood is broken, can I ask what's in the bag?"

"Huh?" It took a moment for the change of topic to make sense in the teacher's mind. "Oh, that, just something I picked up earlier. Feel free to take a look."

Opening the bag that Lancer had put on the table earlier, Kat removed the contents with a flourish. What she found was a framed charcoal image of a ghost in a jungle setting, he appeared to be hunting. " 'Skulker, the Ghost Zone's Greatest Predator,' " she read out loud. "What's up with the little blob of a ghost sitting on his shoulder?"

Mr. Lancer shrugged, "No idea. Some inside joke by the artist, maybe?"

Kat accepted the explanation, then read the paper that accompanied the image.

**_William Reilly_** _is a young local artist who specializes in depicting Amity Park's ghosts and ghost related things. Reilly is best known for his series of four paintings entitled "Ghost Hunters of Amity Park," the proceeds from which went to children's charities. The series contains the only known portrayal of Danny Phantom by Reilly, an occurrence which caused much speculation amongst the artist's fans. All of Reilly's works are unique and are solid exclusively by AGTG._

_Mediums: Graphite, Ink, Charcoal, Pastel, Watercolour, Acrylics, and various others._

"Nice piece. Dare I ask what prompted the sudden interest in ghosts?" Curiosity shone on the bookstore owner's face.

"School project?" Lancer hedged unsuccessfully before giving in. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Well, I'm sure you know of Danny Phantom."

Kat nodded, "Of course, everyone does. He's a cutie, for a teenage ghost. I met him on my first day here, he chased away some box ghost, and then I pulled a guilt trip to get him to help me unpack the boxes that had been put into disarray by their fight."

Mr. Lancer stared, "You _what_? Never mind, I'll ask later. Well I had a case of insomnia on Thursday night, so I went for a walk in the park . . ."

With that the teacher told her the whole story.

"Well then." Kat murmured after he'd finished, her gaze on some point outside of reality. Then she a asked a question that Lancer hadn't been expecting at all. "Is he any good?"

"What?"

"Is Phantom a good artist?"

The expression on her companion's face told her everything she needed to know. "You haven't looked? Oh man, I'd be dying of curiosity if I had something like that. I'm practically keeling over right now just knowing that you have it! Can you call me before you take a look? I want in on this."

Mr. Lancer flushed, "I'm not planing on opening it. It's Phantom's private property, even if he is a ghost."

Kat looked disbelievingly at him, then shook her head.

"Well, you're officially a saint." Getting up, she took the coffee mugs, "I hate to leave, but I need to get back to work."

She turned to look back before heading into the kitchen, "Good luck with the Phantom thing . . . and try not to worry yourself sick about Fenton. He's okay."

"Oh, and one last thing, Lancer. Do you want to catch a movie tomorrow?"


	4. Shopping and Ghost Attacks

**A/N:** I officially hate battle scenes. They're extremely difficult to write. And I totally did a cop-out with the end of it. Sorry. On the positive side, this is longer than expected, which I'm sure you'll all love. Seriously, while I was writing it was always like "I just have this one last thing to do." Painful to write, but I think it turned out okay, with the possible exception of the ending, which feels weak to me.

I took some liberties with this chapter, so there is some stuff here with Danny's character that doesn't really make sense in terms of the show, but I ask that you please keep in mind that Danny is seventeen and has been through a lot in the last three years, and in my little fic verse the last few months have been particularly weird for him. For instance, Danny currently carries around an ecto-gun because of something that happened to him (in my mind) just a few months prior to this story.

In other news, _Reality Trip_ was absolutely amazing! gushes love I'm so happy I got to see it, _Ultimate Enemy_ has a contender for best episode ever now, though I'm personally a huge fan of _Maternal Instinct_ and _My Brother's Keeper_. Shimegami-chan had myself and a bunch of our friends over and we had an awesome day filled with Danny, plus a little Fairly Odd Parents on the side (I haven't seen much of it, so I didn't know that the animation was so weird at first! And Cosmo was just plain different!).

Anyway, enough with my blabbering. Once again, huge thanks to my reviewers. On with the show . . .

* * *

Chapter Four: Shopping, Ghost Attacks and Failed Communication

_What do you wear on date to a movie when you're forty? Well, okay, forty-two._

Mr. Lancer glared at the contents of his closet, completely unsatisfied. If Kat's intention had been to help keep him distracted from Phantom's sketchbook she'd succeeded. Fortunately, her intentions had involved going on a date with an available man her age who she liked as more than a friend. She also succeeded in making said man a nervous wreck.

_How many blue-grey dress shirts do I own anyway?_

It was something of a shock to realize that virtually his entire wardrobe had been relegated to multiple copies of the same, or nearly same, outfit. Everything was work related, everything was . . . well, boring.

Lancer had never considered himself to be the kind of person who owned _that _kind of wardrobe. Sure, being a vice principal required a certain authoritative look, but when had work overtaken his life?

For a moment he wondered why his friends and family had never said anything, then it occurred to him that they probably thought that it was the way he wanted to dress. Not that he saw his limited number of friends very often, or his family for that matter. Brushing off a sense of discomfort with the way his life had gone, Lancer concentrated on the problem at hand.

"It's not like I don't have any money, and it's only noon, I can just go buy something."

Famous last words.

Two hours and five hundred dollars later, Lancer sat in the mall food court wondering where the train that had just run him over had come from.

Several bags containing what the saleswomen had termed 'wardrobe basics' lay around him, though Lancer was of the personal opinion that five hundred dollars really ought to be able to buy more than just basics. Especially when everything was on sale.

It had been something of an learning experience, with Lancer discovering such tidbits of wisdom as 'tucking in shirts makes most people look like they carry more weight than they do.' Somewhere along the line he also found out that he'd been wearing his pants too small and his shirts too big. Otherwise the last two hours was a blur of clothing.

He had, however, managed to come out of the store with an outfit that would work for that evening. Somewhere in the small sea of bags there was a pair of dark-wash jeans and a not-meant-to-be-tucked-in red dress shirt that even Lancer had to recognize looked good on him.

_At least I'll have some variety in my closet now._

"You know, this running into you everywhere thing is getting seriously creepy."

Mr. Lancer looked up to see a package laden Daniel Fenton grinning down at him.

"Sweet Valley Twins! _What _is all that?"

"Ghost hunting equipment," Danny responded shifting the weight of the packages partially onto the table. "Or at least it will be once my parents get through with it. I get to be a pack mule while they shop."

Lancer sized up the large number of bags and boxes, "Does that include the gargantuan bar of fudge sticking out the top?"

"Uh, no," Danny's expression was comical. "Dad just really likes fudge."

The black haired boy opened his mouth to say something else but was accidently pushed by a passer-by, luckily Danny's load simply shifted all the way onto the table. A sound somewhere between pain and exasperation escaped him.

"What is with all the people here today? You can hardly move!"

"It's raining, there's a massive sale and it's late November so people are starting Christmas shopping," Mr. Lancer responded with the most likely explanation.

"Is that what you're here for?" Blue eyes inspected Lancer's own pile of bags.

"Not really," the teacher responded, suddenly flustered. "I came for an outfit and got a bit . . . run over."

Danny nodded in understanding, "I know what you mean. Sam did that to me once when I was looking for a shirt, I think I ended up spending every last bit of cash on me." The teen's eyes sparkled with curiosity, "So why were you looking for an outfit?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Mr. Fenton, but I have a date."

If Lancer had thought Danny's expression was comical before it was nothing compared to now. "Seriously? You have a _date_? Oh, man, that's awesome. You actually asked Kat out?"

_That wasn't the response I was expecting._

"Actually, she asked me out . . . wait. How did you know my date was with Katherine?"

Danny looked somewhat uncomfortable for a moment, "Well . . . um . . . you know, it just sorta made sense to me. . ." Abruptly he stiffened, turned away, and began scanning the room, but not before Lancer noticed a weird blue mist.

Mr. Lancer frowned, "Did you just see . . ."

Anything else the teacher had been about to say was drowned out by a scream.

One of the more interesting things about Amity Park is that there is enough paranormal activity that most people could now tell the difference between an it's-a-ghost scream and any other type of scream. This scream was decidedly of the first kind, and the response of most of the mall goers was almost instantaneous. They started to run.

Or tried to.

There is a practical issue with hundreds of people who are crammed into a too small space trying to run in different directions at the same time. The issue being that no one can actually run in those conditions, and the result of trying is no one moving at all.

Well, that and a lot of bruises.

Mr. Lancer was not one of the ones who tried to run. He had been involved in way too many ghost attacks, and recognized the futility of attempting to run in this particular situation. Instead, the teacher took cover under the table.

Danny joined him there.

"Dammit," the student muttered under his breath. "There's no where to . . ." He stopped and looked at Lancer like he'd suddenly realized that the adult was there, " . . . go," he finished lamely.

The teenager looked like he was caught in some internal debate. A second scream and a crash appeared to settle it for him. "Okay, guess we do this the hard way."

Lancer didn't have time to question that odd statement before Danny dodged out from under the table. Reacting on instinct, the teacher removed himself from his cover to attempt to drag the teen back.

Only to be stuck because of the wall of people. Danny, considerably smaller and more agile, didn't seem to have any trouble maneuvering though the crowd. With some panic, Mr. Lancer realized that Danny was heading toward the ghost rather than away from it. Worry, and a slowly thinning crowd, allowed the teacher to push his way through.

He had just managed to make it to the 'front' when he saw something that sent his heart up into his throat. The ghost, a massive glowing green snake with red eyes, had wrapped its tail around a little girl and was rearing back to snap its jaws around her. . .

And was subsequently pelted in the head by an ecto-blast.

Hissing the ghost released the child and turned towards the source of its pain, a black haired, blue eyed teenager holding a smoking ecto-gun.

_Danny? Where did he get an ecto-gun?_

Insofar as Lancer was aware, neither of the Fenton children shared their parents vocation, yet here was Danny, glaring down a ghost.

The snake moved first, but Danny dodged its fangs with surprising ease. Taking advantage of the time it took for the spook to redirect its motion, the teen snapped off a couple of potshots and began moving towards the child who, though now loose, was still trapped behind the rather large specter.

Watching, Lancer couldn't help but wonder where Danny had learned to move like that. At school he was known for clumsiness, and, amongst other things, for being notably bad at gym.

Still in shock, the adult stared while Danny jumped over the specter and scooped up the little girl, who proceeded to cling onto him for dear life.

Horror spread through Mr. Lancer as he watched the scene unfold. There was no where for the two trapped children to go, since it was unlikely that Danny could vault over the ghost again with a child in his arms, and the ghost had its body looped in a semi-circle around their position.

His legs were moving before his mind registered what he was doing. Mr. Lancer had just enough time to tell himself that he was insane before he got close enough to the ghost.

"Danny!" he yelled, holding out his arms for the girl. Understanding dawned in the teenager's eyes, he said something to the little girl that Lancer couldn't hear before moving closer to the teacher's position. Taking a deep breath the boy tossed the small child into the open arms of Mr. Lancer.

Unfortunately the action grabbed the attention of the ghost, which screeched in anger. Hastily, Lancer began backing up.

Once again the creature was smacked in the face by ecto-blasts as Danny wildly shot at it, trying to give Lancer cover fire. "Go!" the boy yelled at the now hesitating man, Lancer took the advice and ran for it.

As it turned out, he didn't have to run very far, the girl's parents were waiting on the periphery of the ghost's reach. Not really listening to the babbled, between tears thanks, Lancer spun on his heel to look back and make sure Danny was okay. He had turned just in time to see Danny tumble past the head of the ghost snake, causing the spook to accidently loge its fangs into the floor.

Lancer wasn't the only one watching, though the crowd was a lot thinner now, there were a fair few number of people who had stopped to gawk at the fight. A few muffled cheers had gone up when the ghosts fangs had been caught, only to quickly be silenced when the ghost simply phased them back out.

_Shouldn't we be doing something to help him_? But Lancer couldn't shake the feeling that he would get in Danny's way more than anything. The teenager, as weird as it was, was doing almost as well as any of Amity Park's ghost hunters normally would (with the exception of Danny Phantom, who had a considerable advantage). And he was doing it without the training, and lacking the large majority of the equipment.

_This is surreal, he's actually pretty good at this_, Mr. Lancer mused as Danny caught his balance after the floor beneath him gave way due to the snake slamming its tail into the tiles.

Intent on the fight, the teacher almost missed the orange and blue blurs that ran past him into the fray.

Almost.

Jack Fenton was a very hard man to miss, and his wife Maddie, though much smaller, was just as notable.

"Danny!"

The yell from his parents was just enough to distract Danny from the situation at hand. Caught while glancing in their direction, he was hit by the flailing tail of the ghost and sent flying. Lancer winced in sympathy as Danny smacked into the counter of one of the food vendors, the teen's angle and momentum sending him up, over, and out of sight behind the stall.

It was, unfortunately, one of the stalls behind the ghost snake's position, so there was no way for anyone to get to him until the spook had been taken care of.

"Danny!" Maddie Fenton yelled again, this time activating a glowing staff. Her husband settled for a battle cry, and a basic, if large, ecto-gun.

Mr. Lancer was pretty sure that he had never seen the ghost hunting couple be so ruthlessly efficient before, though given that one of their children was in danger and possibly hurt, the added fury was understandable.

A white flash of light briefly caught the teacher's attention, though it was quickly forgotten as Danny Phantom joined the battle, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

Their minds entirely on the ghost that was keeping them from their youngest, for once the Fenton's made no move to question the ghost boy, merely accepting his presence and his help by not attacking him. Phantom, for his part, was unusually quiet, and to Lancer's mind, seemed oddly reserved in his movements.

Watching the expression on Phantom's face, Mr. Lancer noticed that the ghost occasionally winced from pain that had no obvious cause.

_Is his back hurt?_

Regardless of whether the ghostly teen was hurt, the three apparently made a good team and made fairly short work of the snake. The only notable delay was when Phantom left for a moment to grab a metal thermos, which he sucked the other ghost into the first chance he got.

In the momentary lull after the fight, Lancer realized that he had a golden opportunity.

"Phantom!" The teacher called out, causing the ghost to turn towards him. "I need to . . ."

His words were drowned out by the Fentons yelling for their child. Oddly, Phantom looked panicked at this.

"Oh, man. Gotta go!" With that the specter disappeared into the floor.

_Well, that was ineffective._

The small crowd around Lancer let out a collective sigh of relief as Danny Fenton walked out from behind the stall he'd been thrown behind, a little beaten up, but seemingly okay. Mr. Lancer let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding and walked over to where Danny was now surrounded by his parents.

"Danny!" Maddie and Jack both enveloped their son in a hug, relief evident on their faces. Drawing back, Maddie began examining the boy for injury, "What in the world were you thinking, young man?"

Danny blushed slightly, "Well, um, you two weren't here and _someone_ had to keep the ghost occupied so it wouldn't hurt the crowd."

The statement was a sincere one, and Mr. Lancer felt a burst of pride in his student. Obviously the Fenton adults felt the same, as they exchanged proud glances.

"That is so sweat, honey. I'm sorry we were late, we couldn't get through all the people in time."

"We're proud of you son," Jack Fenton backed up the statement with a resounding slap on the back. Lancer noted that Danny winced and bit his lip at the contact.

Maddie noticed too, "Danny? Are you okay? Are you injured somewhere?"

"I'm fine, mom. Just a little bit bruised where I hit the counter." The teen held up his hands preemptively at the look on his mother's face, "Really. It's nothing."

Mr. Lancer decided that it was time to give the family some space, and left to see if any of clothing he had bought was still intact.

By some miracle both his purchases and the purchases of the Fenton's were fine. After dropping the family's bags and boxes over to them, waving off their thanks, and grabbing his own pile of bags, Lancer vacated the mall with his mind full of the afternoon's events.

Who knew Danny Fenton had the heart of a hero?


	5. Temptation, Maddie and Discoveries

**A/N:** Wow. Just . . . wow. More than 120 reviews on _four _chapters, you guys are phenomenal!

I'm relatively pleased with this one, though the third section is kind of ho-hum in terms of the writing. And, by the way, Jack is evil, he's just so . . . extreme.

In other news, "BEWARE THE MASSIVE CHAPTER OF FAN WRITTEN DOOM!"

Er, I mean . . . This is a long chapter, at least for me, so enjoy, because this certainly won't be the norm.

Thanks again. Enjoy chapter five.

* * *

Chapter Five: Temptation, Maddie and Discoveries 

Mr. Lancer was less than surprised when Danny didn't show up for school the next day. _If he was my child, I'd have kept him home after hurting his back like that too._

Currently it was four o'clock, and though the school day was over, Lancer was still at his desk finishing prep work. It was, he knew, what he got for slacking the previous day. _But it was worth it._

So much worth it that the other teachers had been giving him strange looks all day, while the students had simply basked in the glow of Lancer in an unshakably good mood. Not that it had stopped him from doing his job as an educator, merely that Lancer was a much more pleasant person to deal with when he was genuinely happy (as opposed to the manic giddiness he took on during spirit weeks).

Finally done, the teacher stood up and stretched, mentally debating his plans for the night. _I ought to correct those creative writing assignments._ He usually handed assignments back almost immediately, but the weekend had been a hectic one, and Lancer had been distracted.

While correcting was what he ought to do, Mr. Lancer wasn't the least bit inclined to do it. _That's life, you don't always get what you want._

Marking was by far the high school teacher's least favorite part of his job. The only reason he normally finished so quickly was simply to get it over with.

With a resigned sigh, Lancer grabbed his coat and briefcase, locked the door to his office and left the school building.

A short, uninteresting, drive later, the academically inclined man reached his home. It was a small, functional place, bought on the singularly practical premise that for the monthly cost of renting a nice apartment he could instead be making payments towards a house of his own.

Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, but Lancer vaguely missed apartment living. He'd liked knowing that there were people in the building around him, even if he never talked to them.

After taking a couple of minutes to settle in, Mr. Lancer brought a can of pop over to his kitchen table where he had left the pile of 'to be done' assignments. Not that he didn't have a desk, but somehow he always ended up doing his work on the dark wood table regardless. Interestingly, he only ever ate at the table if he had company over, or if it was a snack while doing work.

Lancer stared at the pile of paper in front of him. _It could be worse, they could be exams. Or essays._

It wasn't, precisely, that he didn't want to read what his students had written, this was likely to be one of the more interesting pieces of work he got out of them that year. It was the 'correcting' part that gave the teacher headaches.

The assignment had been of the type that was either the easiest thing in the world, or the hardest, all depending on the writer. Basically, they were allowed to more or less write anything. An essay, a poem, a story, a letter, a speech, a journal entry, _anything_, it could be as formal or as informal as they liked. There was only one stipulation, they had to reveal something about themselves through their writing. What was revealed was up to the student, it could be their likes or dislikes, their emotions, their personality or even something as mundane what they looked like.

The point of the assignment was two fold. One, to simply get the students writing, and, two, to see how creative they could be when given relative freedom. The part of the assignment that required them to reveal something about themselves was merely there to give them _some_ direction, and to give all the assignments something in common.

Mr. Lancer had been rather proud of the concept when he'd come up with it, but it presented certain problems when it came to marking. Like how to apply a consistent scale to such a wide variety of writing.

Idly, Lancer picked up the top paper, Danny Fenton's.

Glancing at it, he wondered if Danny had managed to find his sketchbook after. _Probably not, if he had, he would have given me his original assignment._

_. . .speaking of sketchbooks . . ._

Placing Danny's paper back on the pile, Lancer picked up one of the other objects on the table, the sketchbook belonging to Danny Phantom.

It was actually rather large, though not too large to fit in a standardized book bag, with basic black binding. _Actually, it looks a lot like Mr. Fenton's sketchbook, probably the same brand . . ._

Mr. Lancer paused in mid-thought, "Where in the world does a ghost get art supplies?"

Somehow Lancer doubted that Phantom had stolen the book, and it was all but impossible that he had walked up to a store counter and simply bought it. It was in too good of a condition to have been something Phantom had owned before he died. _Does that mean he has human friends who got it for him?_

It was a novel concept, and one that wasn't totally out of line with rational thought. _After all, there are plenty of people who believe Phantom to be a hero, it's not a far stretch to think that some of them might be willing to support him more actively. _

Lancer stared at the book in his hands, fighting conflicting emotions. He was holding a portal into the psyche of a teenage ghost who spent his time protecting Amity Park from other ghosts. The teacher supposed that he shouldn't feel bad for wanting to open it.

Who wouldn't want to look?

_But I shouldn't._

Mr. Lancer was beginning to wonder how long his morals could win out.

Dropping temptation back onto his kitchen table, Lancer got up. _I need to get out of here, go for a walk, get food, something, anything._

He practically ran out the door.

* * *

Six o'clock that same evening, Lancer found himself staring up at a glowing neon sign declaring to the world that this was the home of the Fenton family. 

_Shouldn't that thing break light pollution laws?_

After leaving his house, Mr. Lancer had gone to the Nasty Burger to eat, and then had simply wandered around town for a bit. Fate, or sheer coincidence, had brought him here.

_Since I'm here, I might as well check up on Danny and make sure he's okay after yesterday._

It was well beyond the line of 'professional interest' to do so, but Lancer found he really didn't care very much, and rang the doorbell anyway.

Maddie Fenton answered the door, "Mr. Lancer! Come on in. . . nothing is wrong, I hope?"

Following the red haired ghost hunter into her home, Lancer shook his head, "No, Mrs. Fenton. I was just in the neighborhood and decided to check in on Danny since he wasn't in school today."

Indicating that he should take a seat and doing so herself, Maddie started to reply when Jack Fenton bounded into the room.

"Ghost!" he yelled training an ecto-gun on Lancer. "Wait, you're not a ghost. You're Danny's teacher, Mr. Lancer." The ecto-gun disappeared somewhere into his disturbingly orange hazmat, before he narrowed his eyes, "Danny didn't fail a test again or something, did he?"

"Relax, sweetheart," Maddie soothed. "Mr. Lancer just wanted to know if Danny is okay after what happened yesterday."

"Oh," Jack replied, sitting on the couch next to his wife. "Strangest thing," he said looking at Mr. Lancer. "He had the nastiest bruise last night, but when we took Danny to the doctor this morning it was like nothing had ever happened. Still, nice to know that he's inherited the ghost hunting genes."

"I'm glad he's okay," Lancer interjected, wondering how anyone ever managed to get a word in edge wise around the couple.

"We probably should have sent him back to school this afternoon," Maddie said, guilt coloring her tone. "But after that bang he took yesterday . . . and he always looks so tired lately . . . well, I thought that one day couldn't really hurt him too badly."

Mr. Lancer nodded in sympathy, "It's alright, Mrs. Fenton, I understand where you are coming from."

"Anyway, he seemed to be fine, so I let him go out to Sam's for the evening. She won't let him do anything dangerous. And Danny will be in school tomorrow," the female inventor's voice was firmer now.

_So, he's not home. Too bad._

"You should both be very proud of your son. The way he saved that little girl yesterday . . ." Lancer trailed off at the blank look on Jack and Maddie's faces. "He didn't tell you?"

"No," Maddie said softly, exchanging glances with her husband. "He saved a little girl?"

"She was caught behind the ghost, Danny got her out," Lancer explained, leaving out his own part in the event.

Jack grinned, "That's our boy! A Fenton through and through! By the way, speaking of yesterday, how did the big date go? Danny told us about it."

_He told them I had a date, but not that he saved a little girl from a ghost?_

"Jack!" Maddie admonished, "That's really none of our business."

"It's alright," Mr. Lancer responded. "To answer your question, Kat and I had a wonderful time. We're going to do something again on Saturday."

"Congratulations," Maddie said, still glaring at Jack for his rudeness.

Lancer stood up, "Well, thank you for your time, I should head home."

"No need to do that, now that you're here, we can talk about ghosts!" Jack exclaimed.

"That's . . ." the teacher trailed off, it was a good opportunity to learn something that might help him track down Phantom. He sat back down. "Actually, I've been thinking about getting the kids to do a paper on local ghosts, but I'm not very familiar with the topic myself. If it's not problematic for you, it would be extremely helpful if you were willing to go over some basic information with me."

_And I've got a sketchbook belonging to Phantom, and I need to find him before I go nuts. But you don't need to know that._

"We'd love to, it's not a problem at all," Maddie replied with a smile that was considerably less frightening than the one Jack was now wearing.

"Great! I'm going to run down to the lab and get some of our ghost hunting equipment to show you!" As good as his word, Jack jumped up and ran off.

After a moment of silence, Maddie spoke up, "He's going to be awhile. We have a lot of equipment, and he's likely to get a bit distracted before coming back up. Is there anything you'd like to start with in the mean time?"

"How about the very beginning? What is a ghost exactly?"

"That's actually fairly complicated." Maddie considered the question for a moment before continuing, "A ghost, normally, is a non-corporeal manifestation of someone who is dead, though it can be an animal as well, and is made of ectoplasm. The most common theory says that ghosts are the spirits that were unable, or unwilling, to find rest after they died, though there is an alternate theory that they are just psychic energy left behind by someone. Personally I think the first one is more likely, because an impression of psychic energy is unlikely to be sentient."

"Okay," Lancer said slowly. "What characteristics and powers do ghosts normally have?"

"Well, in terms of powers, all ghosts can fly, turn intangible and turn invisible. Other powers seem to vary from ghost to ghost depending on their obsession."

"Obsession?"

"The ghosts we see around Amity Park, at least the sentient ones, tend to be extremely obsessive, almost to point of appearing to follow a theme. For instance, I'm sure you've seen that ghost who controls boxes?"

"Who hasn't?" the teacher responded dryly.

"Boxes are obviously his obsession, maybe he dealt with them when he was alive, or, and this is more likely, boxes might have played a part in his death."

Maddie's expression clearly indicated her fascination, "Other characteristics . . . well, most of the ghosts I've met have been malevolent, though it could come out in various ways. Maybe they want energy, or just to cause damage and hurt, no matter what it is they want humans usually end up getting hurt by it."

"All ghosts are like this? Even Danny Phantom?" Lancer asked, trying to led her onto the topic he was most interested in.

The female ghost hunter had the oddest expression on her face at the mention of Phantom. It was like she had a puzzle to which she had all the pieces, but couldn't figure out for the world of her.

"Phantom is . . . different."

"How?" Mr. Lancer asked, intrigued.

"Well, for starters, he ages at a rate consistent with humans," Maddie sighed at the blank look on Lancer's face. "Despite what most people think, the appearance of a ghost can change. It has to do with changes in their level of ecto-plasmic energy. While that can theoretically mean that a ghost will gradually start to look different, usually it's a more abrupt change. Either they hit a certain energy level, or gain a sudden boost somehow, and their appearance will change considerably in that moment."

Maddie paused, looking thoughtful, "Though I think it's likely that it can work in reverse too, with a ghost getting less powerful. Anyway, with Phantom it's entirely different. Ghost theory and my experience both say that he should have gone through several abrupt changes in appearance, but, other than looking older, he looks more or less identical to how he looked three years ago."

"But didn't you say it was possible for the change to be more gradual?" Lancer asked.

"Yes, which is what I put it down to at first. But it's not consistent with his level of power. Phantom is gaining power at a much faster rate than he's changing appearance. He looks like a seventeen year old, he ought to look twenty five or more."

"And the ageing is not the only difference," the ghost hunter continued. "He's obliviously less malicious than most ghosts."

Mr. Lancer raised an eyebrow, he hadn't thought that any of the local ghost hunters knew that.

Maddie saw his expression and interpreted it correctly, "We realized it a while ago, he isn't the immediate threat that most of the other ghosts are. Honestly, I think Phantom is telling the truth when he protests his innocence, despite the thing with the mayor. He's not actively trying to hurt us, or take over the city, if he was he would have done considerably more damage by now. But he's still dangerous because he's too powerful, which is why Jack and I still hunt him."

There was something there that she wasn't saying, Lancer realized with a start. _They couldn't stop him if he decided to attack Amity Park._ It was a sobering thought.

"Getting back on topic, Phantom doesn't appear to be haunting anything, and if he has an obsession like most ghosts it isn't something I've been able to figure out. Of course, a ghost is a ghost, even strange ones like Phantom."

Jack Fenton chose that moment to come back up from the lab, arms full of ghost hunting equipment. "Now I get to blather on about ghosts!"

The excitement in his voice almost caused Lancer to laugh.

_Well, it's going to be an interesting evening._

* * *

It quarter to ten before Lancer excused himself from the Fenton household. Even then, it wasn't as if he actually wanted to leave, it was just that it was a school night. 

The teacher couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face as he walked home. He'd had _fun_. He'd also learned a lot. _Jack may 'blather on about ghosts' but he actually knows what he's talking about._

Lancer could officially say that the couple had peeked his curiosity about ghosts. They had also been interesting company, in a basic, adult to adult, non ghost related way.

The conversation, though mostly centered on ghosts, had drifted from place to place in the casual manner that it tends to amongst friends. At some point Lancer had stopped talking to Mr. and Mrs. Fenton and had started talking to Jack and Maddie.

He'd found that despite a lack of things in common, there was no lack of things to talk about. Both halves of the ghost hunting couple were intelligent people who had plenty to offer on topics other than just the local paranormal problem.

_Though I still have trouble imagining Jack Fenton knitting._

Lancer had accepted Maddie's invitation to join them for brunch on Saturday, and had also agreed to see if Kat would be interested in joining them as well.

_Somehow I've managed to gain a social life in the last few days_, the teacher thought with some amusement.

It wasn't that he didn't have friends, it was just that he didn't see them very often. People were busy, and busy people tend to fall out of contact with one another. It was a bit of a shock to realize just how much he'd missed adult company.

_That's something I can change._ Plans formulated in Lancer's head, calls to old friends could be made, he could spend time outside of school with some of his work buddies, he should make plans to see his family, work on building new friendships, particularly with Jack and Maddie.

And, of course, there was Kat.

Lancer's smile turned into a full fledged grin. He was going to start building a life outside of work.

"WATCH OUT!"

Instinctively, the teacher jumped back a few steps and looked for the source of danger. It took a moment for him to realize that the yell had not been directed at him.

Mr. Lancer didn't doubt for a moment that it was ghost activity. The green glow slightly down the side street he'd been passing gave it away.

_I should go home._

His feet, however, were disinclined to listen to reason.

"Ha-ha! I, Technus, Master of all things Technological cannot be defeated by mere children!"

"If you haven't noticed, we've beaten you every time you've shown up in the last three years!" Lancer recognized the second voice as belonging to Danny Phantom.

_We?_

Once he was close enough to see, Lancer realized that there were four people standing (or floating, as was the case for two of them) in front of a local television store.

Danny Phantom and the ghost who called himself 'Technus' were two of them. And the other two . . .

"Protector of the Small! Mr. Foley, Ms. Manson, get out of there!"

The two teenagers in question looked at each other before running towards Lancer, yelling in unison, "Ah! A ghost!"

_That was . . . odd._

"Run all you like, children! After I have completed my newest upgrade, I shall use your pathetic human addiction to television to take over the world!" He paused a moment, "I thought I was over that."

"Apparently not!" Phantom responded, going into action.

Sam and Tucker both stood back with Mr. Lancer, watching the fight. Not that there was much of one.

After a few moments of Danny Phantom trouncing Technus, Sam pulled out a metal thermos, which, thanks to Jack's overview, Lancer now recognized as a Fenton Thermos. _What is she doing with that?_

"Da . . . I mean, Phantom! Catch!"

Grabbing the thermos out of the air, Phantom quickly opened it and sucked in the offending ghost.

Dropping to the ground, Phantom turned and grinned at Sam, "Thanks."

"No problem."

Lancer looked back and forth between the two, and decided not to ask why Sam looked so comfortable, opting for a different question instead,"Why were you carrying a Fenton thermos around?"

"Uh. . . Danny gave it to me. For safety. . . with all the ghost attacks around he thought I should have something to protect myself with. Came in handy, didn't it?" She gave him what would have been a winning smile, if it wasn't on Samantha Manson.

_I'm never going to figure these kids out._

"Where is Mr. Fenton, anyway?"

"He's on his way home already," Tucker supplied.

_He answered that rather quickly_, Lancer mused, before shaking it off. The teacher was about to take advantage of Phantom's presence when he realized one very important detail.

He wasn't there anymore.

_Apparently I need to work harder on this 'getting Phantom's attention' thing._

Lancer opened his mouth to tell Tucker and Sam that they should go home, only to find that they, too, had disappeared.

_Or maybe I just need to get better at keeping track of people._

* * *

Two days and three ghost attacks later, Mr. Lancer was getting frustrated. _So You Want To Be A Wizard! No wonder Phantom's never been caught, he disappears more than Danny Fenton does. Mind you, he's a ghost, but still . . ._

For someone who was dead, Amity Park's ghost boy apparently led a rather hectic life. Lancer was exhausted, _How does Phantom keep this up?_

Sighing, he flopped into his plush office chair. It was lunch hour, and, for once, Lancer didn't have supervision.

He needed a better plan. Obviously the 'it should be easy to get Phantom's attention' theory was debunked.

_Problem being that I don't have any other options._ He was fairly certain that Phantom wouldn't respond to a seance. And there didn't really seem to be any place that Phantom could consistently be found, if the spook was haunting something it was Amity Park as a whole, not any particular building, or location.

The more Lancer thought about the ghostly teenager, the more questions were brought up. Why did he fight ghosts? Where did he go all the time? How did he die? How and why did he end up haunting/protecting Amity Park?

Who was he when he was alive?

It was this last question that interested Mr. Lancer the most. If he knew that, he could probably find out the rest, if for no other reason than knowing might shock Phantom into talking to him.

The educator had never really been interested in Amity Park's spectral residents before, but the more he looked into it the more interested he got. Especially when it came to Danny Phantom.

Maddie Fenton had been right, Phantom was _different_. And, despite himself, Lancer was finding it harder and harder to convince himself that he didn't need to know why.

Worse, the thing which might provide some of those answers was sitting right in his briefcase.

_It can't hurt to just take the sketchbook out._

Reaching down and flicking open his briefcase, the teacher grabbed the sketchbook by its binding, only to pause when something dropped out.

Placing the sketchbook on his desk, Lancer reached back down, and took out the papers which had just fallen out of Phantom's sketchbook.

And stared.

_Creative Writing Assignment_

_Level Three English, Casper High_

_Submitted to: Mr. Lancer_

_Submitted by: Danny Fenton_


	6. Creative Writing

**A/N:** I find it interesting that so many of you assumed that Lancer made the connection immediately. Personally I think that rather unlikely, since there could be other explanations and since Lancer really hasn't had time to think about it.

Anyway, this chapter is incredibly short (guess it balances out chapter five!). I wanted, originally, to do more in this chapter, but I finally got a job and have made you all wait too long already because of it. So I decided to post the little bit I have.

This is also completely different than what I'd intended to write, and I'm not sure what I think of it, so I'd love to hear any comments you guys have.

Anyway, once again, thank you to all the readers, and especially to the reviewers. Major thanks to Shimegami-chan who did a brain storming session with me the other night, even though I went in a different direction it was extremely helpful.

Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Six: Creative Writing

His mind completely blanked out, Mr. Lancer did the only thing he could think of to do.

He started reading.

_It wasn't what he had wanted to do, it wasn't the life he had wanted to lead. But it was his, regardless of whether or not he wanted it._

_Almost idly, the young man put the sword in his hands through some practice motions. The blade was heavy in his hands, but that hardly bothered him as it swept in an upward arc. He was used to the weight._

_After all, the sword was his, and had been his for some time now. Somewhere along the line it had become part of him in some inexplicable way. In turns he both loved and hated the thing, but he knew that he had long ago lost the chance to lay it down. His own sense of duty denied him that._

_It wasn't, as one might expect, that he begrudged the duty that the sword represented, the duty was _right_. He didn't even begrudge the sword. It was just that, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew things could have gone differently._

_There was joy, too, and a sense of accomplishment that came with the weapon which hummed in his grip. He wouldn't be who he was without it, and surprisingly, despite it all, he was more content with himself than he'd ever been before. He was stronger, in more ways than just the physical. And, of course, there were his companions with whom he was closer than he'd ever dreamed possible, all because of what he'd become when the sword first laid in his hands._

_Few people knew the truth about him and the sword, they saw only the part of him that he allowed them to. But he was their protector, it was a role he'd taken upon himself even though it brought no accolades with it._

_They could survive without him, he knew that from the one time he'd sheathed the sword, but it went easier on them when he kept the task he'd set himself. And, if he were being entirely truthful with himself, he was well past the point where he could give it up. It was, in many ways, who he was, and giving it up would be like severing off a part of himself._

_He'd had dreams before, dreams involving the stars, dreams he'd consciously laid aside in favor of new dreams. And he had made his peace with that. The old dreams had become part of the fluttering, wistful 'could have been'. He worked towards the new ones now. _

_For the most part he was content, but every once in a while he would stare up at the night sky and wonder if in some other time and place it could have been different._

_The sword stilled in his hands, and as he looked out over the homes of those he'd sworn to protect, he knew that tonight would not be one of those nights._

_Still, maybe the day would come when he could revisit old dreams._

Lancer sat very still, caught in the emotion Danny had put into the short piece.

The bell for afternoon class rang.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Lancer stood up. He'd think about it all later, think about what it meant that Phantom had Danny's sketchbook, think about what Danny had been talking about in a creative writing assignment meant to express something about the writer.

Right now, though, he had a class to teach. He just hoped he could get through it without crying.


	7. Mental Exercise & Artistic Appreciation

**A/N:** Man, I've left you guys waiting for _way_ too long. I'm sorry!

You know what I find really funny about the previous chapter? It wasn't supposed to be that good. Really, I have trouble imagining Danny being a good writer, and his creative writing assignment came out far better than it was supposed to. Oh well, I was running under the assumption that he'd spent a lot of time on it, and I do rather like it, so I suppose it's okay.

Writing this chapter was extremely awkward because I had to do it differently than I'd been intending from the get-go. Basically what happened is that I'd written myself into a corner earlier, and in fixing it I wrote myself into another one.

Joy.

I'm kind of dissatisfied with the second section of this chapter. It feels a little awkward to me, but then, I often seem to dislike things in my writing that others do like. I know that I feel like I didn't spend enough time on it (probably something to do with the lack of serious editing), but I _really_ wanted to get this chapter out.

Oh, and every one of you should be really thankful to Narugirl94, because she really helped keep me going on this chapter.

Anyway, huge thanks to all my readers and reviewers!

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Seven: Mental Exercise and Artistic Appreciation 

Humans are truly fascinating creatures, capable of great feats of both logic and imagination. They are also, in some inevitably ironic way, completely blind to even the most obvious things if those same things fall into the category of 'impossible.'

Say, for instance, that magic was actually real. Humans would probably never realize that magic did, in fact, exist, unless it literally hit them over head with a sign that said 'Magic is Real!' and even then many people would deny the truth of the matter.

Now Lancer was better than most when it came to his knowledge of the universe. He was extremely well educated, which is to say that he knew just enough to realize that he really didn't know very much at all. Knowing about the existence of ghosts also helped. Yet Lancer was still human, which is why he was currently very frustrated.

_It doesn't make sense._

Turning the unopened sketchbook about in his hands, Lancer examined it as if the black binding held the answers to existence. For all he knew it did.

He'd taken the time to go home before sitting down to think, and, in an out of character moment, he'd disconnected the phone as well. He didn't want to be disturbed, that was true, but he also didn't want to be discovered.

It was silly, but he felt that what he was about to do was in some way intrinsically wrong. But he was sorely lacking in other options.

He knew a few things for sure.

He knew that he had seen Phantom drawing in this sketchbook in the park. He knew that Danny's creative writing assignment had dropped out of it. He knew, now that he thought about it, that Danny had told him that he had lost his sketchbook, with said assignment, in the park.

From there he could extrapolate that the sketchbook in his hands mostly likely belonged to Danny Fenton. The question then became _why was Phantom drawing in it?_

That Phantom had it was less odd. The ghost could easily have picked it up from where ever Danny had lost it. But to draw in it?

Lancer supposed it could have been just an odd fancy on Phantom's part, or maybe he was simply bored. But it didn't fit with what Lancer knew of the ghost. His gut was telling him that Phantom would have simply returned the thing to its proper owner, or to the park's lost and found if he didn't know who owned it. That is, if it was a simple matter of having found a lost item.

Mr. Lancer had learned to listen to his instincts.

There was another possibility, that the sketchbook really did belong to Phantom and that what the ghost had found was just the creative writing assignment alone. Maybe he'd stuffed it into his own sketchbook with the thought of returning it at a more wholesome time of day.

That made a little bit more sense, but still didn't feel right. In that case what had happened to Danny's sketchbook, and why was it separated from the assignment?

There was also the matter of the assignment itself. It was beautifully written, it was, in fact, the best work he'd ever seen from Danny. It also tugged at the heart-strings, leaving Lancer wondering how much of it was just a story, and how much of it was Danny talking about his own life in metaphor. What could possibly be going on in the young man's life to trigger _that_ kind of emotion?

Though it was really a separate issue, Lancer found that he couldn't make his mind detach the assignment from the whole sketchbook question.

Lancer shook the thoughts from his head, he'd been over this already and was now just going in circles.

There was at least one question that could be resolved fairly simply.

Laying the sketchbook on the table, Lancer took a deep breath and opened it.

For a moment, Lancer just stared down at the book, before a burst of laughter escaped him. _This is just ridiculous._

He'd opened it upside down.

Still chuckling at his own moment of stupidity, and now far more at ease, Lancer flipped the sketchbook around so it was facing the right way.

The inside cover held no drawings, but there _was _an inscription there, written in what Lancer recognized as Jazz's handwriting.

_Dear Danny_

_Since you're always sketching away on every piece of paper that gets near you these days, we thought that you should probably have a proper place to put all those drawings that seem to jump out of your head._

_We're always here for you ._

_Love,_

_Jazz, Sam and Tucker_

_P.S. Tucker wants me to make it absolutely clear that the love thing is purely fraternal on his part and should not be misinterpreted_

"Okay, so this definitely belongs to Danny," Mr. Lancer muttered aloud. "That still leaves the question of why Phantom was drawing in Danny's sketchbook."

There wasn't a ready made way of answering that particular question, even if he leafed through every page of the sketchbook and somehow managed to find the correct drawing there was no guarantee that it would tell him anything at all about the ghost's intentions.

Sighing, Lancer got up from the table and wandered over to the fridge.

Having retrieved a can of pop, the high school teacher leaned his back against the kitchen counter and stared into space.

_So now what?_

Rightfully, he knew he ought to take the sketchbook and return it to Danny immediately.

It was just . . . the sketchbook was sitting _open _on his table. And Danny, though human, was almost as much an enigma as Phantom.

_And you might as well admit that you're dying to see how good an artist Danny actually is as well._

He'd only ever caught small glimpses of the boy's work, and though he wasn't much of an art connoisseur, what he had seen had impressed him.

Would it really hurt anyone to take a look?

If life was a cartoon, Lancer was sure that right at this moment there would be a miniature devil version of himself standing on his shoulder egging him on. But this wasn't a cartoon, this was real life, and there was just Lancer and a sketchbook belonging to his most elusive student.

And there was a limit to how good a person Lancer was capable of being.

* * *

A few minutes later Lancer was sitting in his favorite chair - a large plush leather thing - guiltily perusing Danny Fenton's sketchbook. 

_Danny's an obsessive sketcher_, he noted with some amusement.

The pages were almost completely covered, seemingly with whatever Danny could get his hands on, pencil, pen, paint, marker, charcoal and in one case, crayon.

There was even more variety in the subject matter that Danny drew (or painted, or whatever). There were whole pages of things like human hands in different position, studies of facial expressions, and quick sketches of body parts (there was one page covered in nothing but eyes).

There were also plenty of drawings of everyday items, like books, pens, Tucker's PDA, and even what appeared to be a half eaten Nasty Burger. There were trees, rocks, birds, bits of landscape, telephone poles, houses . . . just about everything imaginable was crammed into the white space on the various pages.

But it was the drawings that didn't share page space with other drawings that made Mr. Lancer pause.

There were full flushed out artworks of super-heros, amusing multi-panel comics staring caricatures of people Danny knew (an example of which included an odd little one of Dash being beaten up by a mouse, Lancer wasn't quite sure what that one was about), beautiful sketches of various locations around Amity Park, one picture that Lance was sure was a blueprint of a spaceship, and a rendering of Puck from Midsummer Night's Dream which made Lancer wonder if perhaps Danny payed more attention than he appeared to.

Most impressive were the images of the people in Danny's life.

Of everything in the sketchbook these were the most detailed, the most lovingly done, and, in Lancer's opinion, the overall best. There were things like Jack punching out a ghost that looked like a vampire, one of Maddie posing with a staff, Jazz studying, Tucker with his PDA, just to name a few.

Of course, there were also pictures of Sam, and if Mr. Lancer had even a whisper of doubt left that Danny loved her those images completely dispelled it. He'd spent a full ten minutes just staring at the one of Sam laughing, it had captured something that very few people saw in the Goth.

There weren't any of Danny himself, though Lancer supposed that it was probably very difficult to draw yourself.

And then there were the ghosts.

Lancer had to admit that the ghosts surprised him, he really hadn't expected them, despite the huge role they played in the life of Amity Park and in the life of the Fenton family in general.

Pages upon pages were filled with pictures of the ghosts. There were even captions naming the ghosts and explaining the scenes, which was exceedingly odd, though Mr. Lancer had enjoyed the one labeled 'Technus vs the Box Ghost: Who Will Win Most Annoying of the Century!' _Apparently I was mistaken in thinking that Danny had no interest in ghosts._

_Though it is weird that there haven't been any pictures of Phantom. I wonder why . . ._ Shaking in head in confusion, Lancer flipped the page.

_Another gho . . ._

The teacher paused mid-thought to stare at the picture in front of him.

He _knew_ this image.

Very slowly a grin spread onto the middle-aged man's face. _Well, then. That's interesting . . . I'll have to remember to talk to Mr. Fenton about that_. Picturing the look on Danny's face when he told him caused the grin to spread even further.

Continuing his perusal of the book, Lancer realized that there couldn't be very many unused pages. He was nearing the end and almost every little bit of space was being utilized, either with sketches, or with notes on the sketches.

Danny was meticulous too, even quick sketches had a sense of completeness to them, nothing was left hanging.

_Except this one._

It was on the rough outlining stage, but looking at it Lancer realized that what he was examining was actually a picture of himself.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, the teacher took in the image of himself standing in front of class with a book in left hand and expansively gesturing with the other one. Danny had captured him in a moment of lecturing his students. From the detail present in just the outline, Lancer realized that Danny had intended this to be one of the heavily detailed drawings which had been dedicated only to people Danny cared about throughout the rest of the book.

Clearing his throat slightly, Lancer flipped the page, only to find it blank. _Maybe the picture of me was the last one?_ A quick leaf-through the last couple of pages confirmed that.

The teacher closed the sketchbook and laying it to one side leaned back into his chair, closed his eyes, and mulled over what he'd seen. _Danny definitely has talent, as well as dedication and drive. I wonder if he's planning on pursuing art as a career . . ._

Enjoying the silence and the moment of relaxation Mr. Lancer allowed his thoughts to drift. _I never did notice which one was Phantom's. There was nothing notably different about any of them . . ._

_Actually, that's not true. There was one. The picture of me, it was the only one that was unfinished._

Lancer frowned slightly, _That doesn't make any sense. I mean, admittedly Phantom was in the middle of whatever he was drawing, so it _would _be incomplete, but why would he draw a picture of me? Besides, it was in the exact same style as the rest of Danny's drawings . . . _

A thought occurred to him, causing his eyes to snap open.

_But . . ._

"But that's not possible!"


	8. Logic

**A/N:** Welcome to chapter eight. My sincere apologies for having taken this long to get this out, I can only say that life has been absolutely insane since I last posted, and that if I'd rushed this chapter you would have gotten far lower quality writing.

On that note, chapter nine will be the last chapter of _Phantom's Sketchbook._ I am going to do my absolute best to get it out before the end of the month, but there are no guaranties. If it's not out by the end of September, it's likely that you won't see it until mid to late November. I'm doing my professional degree in teaching this year and it's an extremely busy program, with October being The Month From Hell (TM). Sorry for the inconvenience.

Anyway, while I really liked the ending to chapter seven because it made for a good ending, it wasn't quite as clear as I would have liked. So this chapter picks up a little before the ending of the last one.

It was exciting to write this chapter, and I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 8: Logic

_. . . Okay. It's Danny Fenton's sketchbook. I saw Danny Phantom drawing in it. That picture is the only one that could potentially be by Phantom, but stylistically you can't tell it from anything else. Why? How is that possible?_

_Unless of course,_ the teacher thought jokingly, _Fenton **is** Phantom . . ._ Lancer's eyes snapped open. The thought had been tongue-in-cheek, but it caused a jolt of recognition to run through him. Could it be? Could something so ridiculously stupid and inconceivable be the truth?

_But . . . _

"But that's not possible!"

_Danny Fenton is Danny Phantom._

The thought was a train wreck inside Mr. Lancer's head.

_Danny **Fenton **is Danny **Phantom**._

It wasn't possible, it absolutely, one hundred percent, _was not_ possible. Of course, three years ago ghosts weren't possible either.

_Slow down,_ the teacher told himself firmly. _Slow down and think it out logically._

_Right, logic. Because logic works so well on ghosts. . ._

"Okay," he muttered out loud in an attempt to derail his thoughts, "some kind of logic has to apply here. Even if it is weird logic. After all, the Fenton's _study _ghosts."

The Fenton's . . . _I wonder if they know that their son is ghost . . . Getting ahead of yourself! **You **don't even know if he's a ghost yet._

_Right_.

A million different thoughts vied for his attention, Lancer did his best to stomp on them all until he had managed to retrieve a pad of paper and a pen.

_Where do I even start?_

_Basics, start with the basics. It's comparison and contrast._

"Physical stuff first, it's the easiest."

Phantom was a ghost, while Danny was human, at least to all appearances . . . That was basic. Taking off the cap of the pen with his teeth, Lancer jotted that down.

_Details._

Phantom had white hair and green eyes, Danny had black hair and blue eyes. Otherwise . . . Lancer closed his eyes for a moment, trying to picture the two next to each other. _You know, I don't think I've ever seen them together._ Not on topic, but that information was important enough to be written down as well.

_Going back to physical stuff. _There was a definite resemblance, outside of coloring. Phantom. . . Phantom _glowed_, and he was somewhat insubstantial, but then, he was a ghost. Other than that though, in terms of build and facial features, the resemblance was uncanny. _I wonder why no one seems to have noticed that._

Lancer paused and stared at the note he'd made on the physical resemblance. _So . . . there is **some **connection. Ghosts don't just randomly look like people, there is something there, but that doesn't necessarily mean that they're the same person. Phantom could be a dead family member, or some kind of . . . I don't know, ecto-plasmic projection or something._

_Or Danny could be possessed . . ._

The last wasn't an option that Lancer was too keen on.

_How likely is that? Phantom's been around for what? Three years? That would be a rather long period to posses someone. And Danny has acted normally the entire time . . . well, relatively normal._

_Three years . . ._

That time period meant something else.

_What. . . wait. Isn't that exactly the amount of time that Danny's been having problems?_

"There are officially too many coincidences now," the English major muttered to himself as he added 'Three Years!' to his list.

_Maybe Phantom manifests himself through Danny?_

A shudder ran through Lancer, _Now there's a disturbing thought._ It raised an interesting question however. If . . . if Phantom and Fenton were the same person, were they really the _same_ person? Or was there two beings inhabiting the one body? Or was it some kind of weird multiple personality thing?

How in the world would the whole thing work anyway?

_Would it mean that Danny is dead?_

Uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts were taking, Lancer refocused on the task at hand. _No point in asking unanswerable questions about an as yet theoretical situation._

"What else?"

_Phantom is confident, almost to the point of being cocky. He's a fighter, he risks himself to save others on a daily basis. Danny is shy and clumsy, and won't stand up for himself even to prevent being hurt, he's certainly not a fighter._

But that wasn't really true, was it?

He'd fought that ghost at the mall, hadn't he? Done well at it too, showing agility and reflexes that logic said he shouldn't have. He'd saved a little girl and hadn't given up until he was knocked out of the fight just before . . . _Just before Phantom showed up._

And Phantom had been moving oddly, like he had hurt his back, right about the place where Danny had hit the counter. Danny had recovered from that injury at an almost inhuman rate.

_Phantom panicked too, right when Maddie and Jack started to look for Danny. Disappeared. And then Danny came out from behind the counter. . ._

The pattern forming almost made Lancer groan at his own blind stupidity.

How often had Danny disappeared or ran off over the last three years, only to come back looking tired and bruised? _And most of them immediately before or during a ghost attack._

_Doesn't prove anything, not yet anyway. Keep on going._

Danny had two exceedingly close companions in Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley. Phantom . . . as far as Lancer knew, Phantom didn't have anyone.

But that wasn't quite true either, he'd seen Phantom with Sam and Tucker just a few days ago. Sam and Tucker, the two most important people in Danny's world (not including his family), had been there while Phantom was fighting Technus.

And they hadn't seemed concerned in the least little bit. Sam had even helped by giving Phantom the Fenton Thermos, almost calling Phantom by his first name in the process. The three of them had disappeared only moment later, which, now that Lancer thought about, might be more literal than he first assumed.

And Danny hadn't been there.

Then there was the sketchbook, filled with, amongst other things, pictures of ghosts. Detailed, accurate pictures with captions revealing the names and natures of the ghosts rendered.

The same sketchbook that he was sure belonged to Danny, but had definitely seen Phantom sketching in.

True, it was possible that Danny got his information on the ghosts from his parents, or from simply being a Fenton and having to deal with ghosts so much. But if that was the case, wouldn't that interest, that knowledge, have come out in other places, in other ways? This was Amity Park after all, it wasn't like anyone would laugh at him.

Instead it was like Danny was trying to hide it, only letting out his knowledge of the paranormal in his drawings. Which no one, save perhaps Sam and Tucker, ever saw.

And then there was the fact that the sketchbook held absolutely no pictures of either Danny or Phantom.

Uncertain, and more than a little freaked, Lancer put down his now very full note pad and began to pace.

_If it's true, it would explain so much. It would explain Danny's problems, it would give Phantom an understandable motive for what he does, and it would explain why Phantom is so weird for a ghost. Because really, he wouldn't quite **be** a ghost, would he?_

_What would he - or they - be? Some kind of ghost-human hybrid?_

Lancer almost laughed at the ridiculousness of that particular thought.

He sobered up almost instantly. _If I'm right, do Jack and Maddie know?_

Frowning, the teacher considered that question and came to an almost inevitable conclusion. _No, not with the way they hunt Phantom. Sam and Tucker, however, almost certainly would._

_What about Jazz?_

That one was another interesting question. Jazz, who was currently away at college following her dreams, might or might not be aware of the situation.

_Of course, there might not be a situation to speak of, I might be jumping to a rather large conclusion._

Somehow Lancer didn't think he was.

Meandering into the kitchen, Lancer mused over the whole thing. He was more or less convinced now.

It was a lot to take in.

Mr. Lancer's gaze fell on his kitchen table, and on it, the still uncorrected assignments. Danny's assignment, the one that had fallen out of the sketchbook, lay on top.

Picking up the creative writing assignment, almost frightened of what meaning it might hold now that he had an eye for the truth of it, Lancer began to re-read.

He went through the whole thing, once, twice, three times, before coming back to the part that kept nagging at him.

_Few people knew the truth about him and the sword, they saw only the part of him that he allowed them to. But he was their protector, it was a role he'd taken upon himself even though it brought no accolades with it._

Lancer let out a long puff of breath, "Twelfth Night ."

The English teacher in him couldn't help but be pleased at Danny's use of the sword metaphor, but the implications were beyond imagining.

Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were the same person.

There was no proof, all Lancer had was coincidence and conjecture. But it was true none the less.

Mr. Lancer stared blankly at the nearest wall, wondering how it was possible that a sketchbook belonging to a seventeen year old boy had completely re-written his world view. Wondering how Danny - shy, clumsy Danny - had become the ghost-hero of Amity Park. Wondering what the implications of that were.

And most of all, wondering what in the world came next.


	9. Confrontation

**A/N:** Well. Welcome to the last chapter of _Phantom's Sketchbook_.

This has been an absolutely incredible ride. When I started this I had intended it to be a one shot. Now we're 18111 words later (according to my master WordPerfect file, so not including author's notes), and I still can't quite believe it. Before this fic I hadn't written anything of significance in two or three years, and I'm astounded by where this piece took my writing. I can say with confidence that this is the best thing I've written to date (though I'm fond of some of my one shots). It also makes me feel really good because I had thought that university had sapped the large chunk of my creativity out of me and I think this proves - rather definitively - that I was wrong.

The other thing that completely bowled me over is the response. Seriously guys, you are fabulous! _Phantom's Sketchbook_ is on 15 C2's, 207 favorites lists and 220 story alerts. I've gained new readers _every chapter_, and there are a bunch of people who've reviewed each and every chapter. There are already over 425 reviews for the story (Chapter 7 alone has 91) and there is still this chapter to consider. And I'm fairly confident in saying that there are probably a bunch of people reading this who have never left a review.

This chapter is dedicated to every last one of you who has read this story. You have no idea how good you've made me feel about myself.

Thank you all.

Particular thanks to Shimegami-chan for all the support, the brain-storming sessions and for introducing me to Danny Phantom in the first place.

Apologies to Iyonjin who hasn't read this story and probably never will (unless Shi-chan kicks his butt for me, ne Shi-chan?), but who has put up with my ranting and raving, and my incessant checking of e-mail whenever I've posted a chapter (I love my reviews!).

Now, enough of my babbling. You guys are wanting to read the chapter!

(P.S.: I like this chapter, but I think chapter eight officially gets my vote for best chapter.)

EDIT: Fixed Paulina's last name. Hopefully.

* * *

Chapter Nine: Confrontation

Anyone who has ever had their world view utterly changed by an idea or a realization can tell you that it doesn't always come easily. Sometimes, in order for your world to change, it has to fall apart first, and then be re-stitched from the ground up.

Which probably explains why Lancer had a hard night.

People deal with things in different ways, and, as a matter of fact, people deal with different things in different ways. In this particular case Lancer spent the night indulging in two things.

Evidence for the first could be found in the large empty bottle of single-malt scotch that now sat on the teacher's living room table.

The second would have surprised those who thought they knew the man. It was, really, one of his best kept secrets.

Lancer was a gamer.

And, therefore, the second thing he'd indulged in was several hours of Duck Hunt, allowing the mindless repetitive action to put him in a better head space.

At some forsaken point in the morning Mr. Lancer's body gave out on him, so he'd gone to bed muttering about how he wished you could shoot the damn dog.

Which, all told, wasn't so bad. What was less good, in the humble opinion of the vice principal of Casper High, was the sound of the phone ringing right next to his ear the next morning.

_Aguh. Whoever thought that having a phone on your bedside table was a good idea needs to be tarred and feathered._

Grabbing the receiver with the vague thought of throwing it against the wall, Lancer muttered a shaky hello.

And stared in horror at the clock when he heard the panicked voice of the school secretary on the other end.

_9:21._

He could, if he skipped breakfast, be at the school in thirty minutes. But as the previous day's realizations filtered through his brain, the educator decided to do something that went against his very moral fibre.

Mr. Lancer took a sick day.

Hanging up on the surprised secretary, Lancer guiltily reasoned with himself that taking a 'mental health day' just once wouldn't hurt anything.

For a few minutes the 'sick' teacher lay on his bed with his eyes closed in the vain hope of getting a little more sleep.

Which, of course, failed miserably.

With a moan and a little bit of grumbling, he rolled out of bed.

Two hours, a cup of coffee, a shower and a hangover cure later, Lancer was more or less ready to face the day.

Briefly he debated the merits of calling the school and telling them that he could come in for the afternoon - the largest merit being that it would ease his guilty conscience - before deciding that it was better not to. _Like I'd be able to concentrate on class anyway._

With a resigned sigh, the teacher compromised and sat down to mark the creative writing assignments instead.

It was difficult to work while thoughts about Fenton/Phantom kept interrupting him.

_What he's doing is dangerous, incredibly so._

But as thoughts of all the times that Phantom had saved peoples lives filled his head, Lancer wondered if perhaps it was necessary.

_Necessary maybe. But it doesn't mean that I have to like it._

_Not that I could do anything about it anyway. What I am going to do? Threaten to give him detention if he doesn't stop?_

_Should I tell his parents?_

_What about school? Talk about problems with inclusive education, how does one accommodate a super-hero?_

_Should I even tell him that I know at all?_

That one was the million dollar question. Mr. Lancer laid down his pen and rubbed his temples.

"It's going to be a long day."

* * *

It was lunchtime the next Monday before Mr. Lancer managed to work up the courage to confront Danny.

"Mr. Fenton, would you come to my office for a few minutes? We need to have a chat."

Danny gulped slightly, before gathering his things and giving Sam and Tucker a look that clearly said 'I'm so dead.'

Lancer kept quiet until the two of them were in his office with the door safely shut. "Please take a seat, Mr. Fenton. And relax, you aren't in trouble."

The teenager relaxed marginally at the assurance, taking the proffered seat and giving Lancer an uncertain look.

Sometimes actions are stronger than words, so Lancer sat down behind his desk and grabbed a set of stapled papers from on top of his desk then handed them to Danny.

Blue eyes glanced from the paper, to Lancer, and then back to paper, growing wider in recognition, "But . . . how . . . where . . ."

"In the park, I'll explain momentarily," the bald teacher replied not bothering to hide his smile. "Open it."

Lancer hadn't realized that Danny's eyes were capable of going any wider.

"I got a ninety-five? "

"Indeed you did, Danny, though I need to explain slightly. You did an excellent job with the writing, but I'm not certain that it really addressed what it was supposed to," the teacher marveled that he was able to keep a straight face while saying that. The assignment, in fact, did _exactly_ what it was supposed to. Lancer simply shouldn't have known it.

"I'm going to use the poem you wrote as the mark for the creative writing assignment, it is more along the lines of what I was looking for. You got an eighty on it, by the way."

Danny's eyebrows scrunched up slightly, "Then what is the mark on this one for?"

"Extra credit," Lancer responded simply, enjoying the look of disbelief followed quickly by a grin on his student's face.

Before Danny had a chance to say anything, Lancer reached into his briefcase and pulled out a second item. The grin on Danny's face grew wider as he reached out to take the object.

"Danny, I need to apologize to you."

The young man looked up from his sketchbook, "What? Why?"

Mr. Lancer took a deep breath, "For several reasons. The first one being for not returning this to you sooner, even though I didn't actually realize it was your's until quite recently. The second one being that when I realized it belonged to you, I looked through it. I shouldn't have. It's your private property. I gave in to curiosity and that was wrong of me."

_And I need to apologize for not realizing that something was wrong earlier. For being so hard on you._

The silence stretched for a moment, as Danny simply sat there looking at his teacher. For his part, Lancer was extremely uncomfortable under the steady blue gaze of his most complicated student.

Then Danny laughed shakily, his face going a little red, "That's okay, I can understand that. Thanks for the apology though. "

The teen rubbed the back of his neck, looking extremely embarrassed, "So, um . . . who did you think it belonged to?"

Mr. Lancer forced himself to laugh self-derisively. "Would you believe Danny Phantom?"

Carefully watching for his reaction, Lancer noticed Danny stiffen ever-so-slightly.

"Really?" Danny asked, his tone expressing surprise.

"I was out for a late-night stroll when I came across Phantom in the park. I don't think he noticed me, but this other ghost attacked him and Phantom left the sketchbook behind. I picked it up, and have been trying to get it back to him ever since. Didn't have much luck, Phantom's hard to catch."

The barest hint of recognition flickered through Danny's face. "So how did you find out it was mine?"

"Your assignment fell out, so I took a look. I'd still be trying to track down Phantom if it hadn't. I should have known better, now that I think about it. A ghost drawing? Not very likely. Phantom probably just picked it up from wherever you dropped it in the park." Lancer desperately hoped he sounded like he was telling the absolute truth.

Some of Danny's tension seemed to seep out of him, "Yeah. Probably." He looked down at the floor for a moment. "Um . . . Mr. Lancer? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Mr. Fenton."

"Um... what did you think? Of my drawings I mean."

The question threw the teacher off guard. "What do I . . . Danny, you have an incredible talent. I was extremely impressed."

The teen blushed slightly, "Thanks."

"Now, one last thing before I let you go," Mr. Lancer said before reaching into his briefcase once more.

Danny went completely still.

"William Reilly, Mr. Fenton?"

_William. Bill. Inviso-Bill. I still can't decide if that's utter brilliance or if it's horrible._

For a moment, Danny stared at the charcoal drawing. At _his_ charcoal drawing. "You bought a piece of my work?" he asked unsteadily.

Mr. Lancer nodded, "At the museum the other day, it struck me for some reason. Why the pseudonym?"

"I didn't want attention." The reply was soft and muffled, as Danny's gaze was directed at his feet rather than at his teacher.

Abruptly Danny stiffened, a blue mist coming out of his mouth.

_I've seen that before._ Lancer realized in surprise. _It happened to Phantom before Skulker showed up, and to Danny that day in the mall with the snake-ghost . . . _The connection clicked.

"Anyway, Mr. Fenton," he said, hoping he sounded casual. "I'm sure you'd like to get back to your friends."

Relief showed in the teen's eyes. "Yeah, see you Mr. Lancer!"

And Danny Fenton ran out the door.

_How many times? How many excuses made up for the sake of keeping people safe?_ Mr Lancer stared at the door, shaking his head in wonder.

"Good luck, Mr. Phantom."

* * *

It was with no small bit of relief that Mr. Lancer stepped into his English class first period in the afternoon. _Good to have that taken care of._

Sam, Tucker and Danny were sitting in their customary corner, busily whispering over something. Given that they weren't sending him strange looks, Lancer assumed it was about the ghost that had attacked during lunch.

Phantom had taken care of it.

And now Danny was sitting in class, a little worse for the wear, but grinning triumphantly and enjoying the company of his friends.

He was still a teenager after all.

Mr. Lancer laid down the pile of papers he'd brought with him, and calmly erased the chalkboard while the last few stranglers made their way into the room.

When class started, Lancer handed back the now marked creative writing assignments, commenting that he'd been pleasantly surprised by the quality of the work, and giving Danny an encouraging smile when he handed back the poem the boy had written about Sam.

_He really ought to just tell her that he loves her._

"Well, now that we're finished with that, it's time to give you your next assignment."

The predictable groans and complaining came from the class, not phasing the experienced teacher in the least.

"We're doing something a little different this time. There is a local issues component to this course, and since this _is _Amity Park, I've decided that you guys get to write a research paper on either a specific ghost or a ghost related topic."

That gained some interest from the class.

"Ooh!" Paulina's hand shot up immediately, Mr. Lancer ignored her.

"You'll be doing this in groups of three or four that I will assign. I will also be assigning the topic, so you can put your hand down Ms. Sanchez."

Picking up his list, Mr. Lancer began to read off the groups and their topic.

Danny, he was happy to note, looked interested, if vaguely amused by the assignment. There was no worry in his expression, so he probably hadn't figured out that Lancer knew his biggest secret.

It had occurred to Lancer that perhaps he should have told Danny what he knew. It was certainly tempting since then he could ask all the questions that were burning in the back of his mind.

But he'd thought about it, and had come to the conclusion that he was, first and foremost, Danny's teacher. And he owed Danny, and Danny's classmates, an obligation that he knew himself incapable of completing if he was closer to the situation.

Maybe after Danny had graduated he could confront the young man and offer his help and his friendship. But right now, in this time and this place, he couldn't be Danny's friend.

Not that it meant he couldn't do small things.

"Samantha Manson, Tucker Foley and Danny Fenton. You'll be doing your report on Danny Phantom." Lancer barely managed to hold back a laugh at the look of glee and amusement shared by the three friends.

Besides, Mr. Lancer was a fan of irony.


End file.
